


195

by Nival_Vixen



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Assassination Attempt(s), Assassins & Hitmen, Complete, Dark Stiles, Dubious Morality, F/M, Financial Issues, Fucked Up, M/M, Minor relationships only, Moral Ambiguity, Morally Ambiguous Character, Multi, Nogitsune Effects, POV Stiles, Post-Nogitsune Stiles Stilinski, Serial Killer Stiles, Serial Killers, Stiles-centric, Twisted
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-16
Updated: 2014-07-16
Packaged: 2018-02-09 03:18:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,122
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1967013
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nival_Vixen/pseuds/Nival_Vixen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>With the notices from Eichen House piling up, and bills from the hospital becoming overwhelmingly red, Stiles makes a decision regarding the Benefactor's deadpool. It's probably the wrong decision, but it's already too late.</p>
            </blockquote>





	195

It wasn't meant to end up like this. In fact, it never should have started. But Stiles found that it was easy. Far too easy, too easy to fool everyone, far too easy to let himself believe that he was making the right choice. Maybe in the beginning, he was. _But now? After everything they'd been through - after everything he'd done?_ Even Stiles, with his moral compass askew, knew that redemption and salvation were no longer in his reach. The nogitsune was one thing - a mind possessed and a body no longer under his control - but Stiles no longer had that excuse.

Stiles made the decision himself, awake longer than he should have been, window and door locked to keep everyone out while he took the time to think. They had the deadpool, the list of beings that the Benefactor wanted killed, that he would pay money to be killed. And with the final notice from Eichen House sitting on his desk, and the letter about lawyers down next to his father's whisky tumbler, Stiles made a decision.

He picked the name with the smallest number next to it, and in the next 24 hours, the deed was done. He'd just killed someone on the Benefactor's deadpool list, and there was blood on his hands, and his stomach was churning and he threw up three times because he'd liked it. The sense of control, the feeling of power, of knowing that he could do something, be something other than Stiles the sidekick, an afterthought or a disappointment. He did it, and he was so fucking proud he made himself sick. Stiles texted the number that Lydia had scrawled at the bottom of the deadpool list, evidence of what he'd done, and within seconds, he received a response.

 _The money has been transferred to your account_.

Stiles logged onto his computer immediately, mouth dry and burning acidic in his throat and on his tongue from his stint in the bathroom. He found out that the smallest number wasn't simply $25 as he'd assumed. _It was $2500_. His hands clenched, his stomach tightened, and Stiles forced himself to log out of his bank account and check three more times before he believed the figure on the screen.

It took almost a week for the realisation of what Stiles had done to sink in. He kept his window and door locked at night, and even though he heard Malia whining outside, he kept his breathing steady, pretended to be asleep, and ignored her. He slept with his mind on edge, briefly waking at every noise outside, thinking that someone - Malia or otherwise - was trying to get him, to get revenge. There was no one, though, and eventually, even Malia simply stopped trying.

When Stiles was certain that Malia wouldn't turn up at night and he wasn't going to be killed in revenge (mainly because the person he'd killed had no family, which probably resulted in the lower price), Stiles managed to sleep through the night. It was the first time he'd slept peacefully in almost two years - ever since Scott had been turned into a werewolf, and it Stiles should have been ashamed that he was able to sleep so deeply after becoming a killer, but he remembered the nogitsune and the pleasure he'd felt at being strong, being powerful, being someone no one would ever forget, and he couldn't bring himself to feel anything other than a sense of satisfaction. Though, that could have been the eight hour sleep talking.

That day, Scott complimented Stiles on how chill he seemed to be, how relaxed and content, and then in a lowered voice when no one else was around, asked if he and Malia had finally had sex. Stiles denied it immediately, and apparently his face was believable enough for Scott not to question him further, simply nodding and heading off to where Kira and the others were waiting. Stiles didn't follow him for once; Lydia was watching him as if she knew something, as if she could hear something, but hadn't yet deciphered the sound, and besides, Malia was still upset and growling at him. Stiles waved them off, thumbing over towards the library, and headed back into the school.

His medical bills and the notices from Eichen House totalled to more than $10,000 and he'd made a quarter of that with the smallest number on the deadpool. Stiles had been researching the supernatural for the past three years, submersing his life in the world that he'd been inadvertently thrust in to, and he knew the weak points of most creatures. He'd read through the bestiary three times, even going so far as to add his own notes on the creatures they'd seen and fought over the years. The next number on the list - 55 - was a lone Omega werewolf. It would be easy, especially as he had his own strand of wolfsbane growing in the backyard. He knew how to subdue the wolf and it was a lone Omega; it's not like it was an Alpha or anything. Stiles warred with himself for a good thirty minutes, even as he drove to the house of 55. The Omega actually let Stiles into his home, probably smelling the rest of the pack on him, and from there, it was easy. Stiles knew how to clean up a crime scene - he'd seen the photos of various crime scenes since he was a child, and knew how the officers of Beacon Hills worked - and he left the Omega's house fifteen minutes later.

 _The money has been transferred to your account_.

The next time was purely accidental. That's what Stiles told himself, at least. It wasn't like he _purposely_ went hunting hags at the supermarket, but he'd caught a glimpse of the hag's reflection as she'd walked into the store. The hag wore sunglasses and if it weren't for the horrifying reflection, might be considered quite pretty. Stiles re-checked the hag's reflection four times before he definitely decided that there was no way that it was an illusion or a trick of the light. The hag - 60 - would be next, and he knew just what to do. Hags were susceptible to reflections and reflective surfaces, and still water was a reflective surface. Drowning the hag was messier than he thought it would be, and while he went home drenched, Stiles also went home $6,000 richer.

Stiles started to withdraw the money in small amounts, leaving a few hundred dollars in an unmarked envelope in the letterbox before his father collected the mail each night. The Sheriff was suspicious, but Stiles managed to convince him that the money was for them and to use it to start paying their bills. John wasn't an idiot and probably assumed that Stiles was providing the money, but he never asked about it, and didn't bring it up. Stiles figured that his father was too ashamed about not having the money himself, but Stiles knew how much his medical stint cost, and he didn't think his father had a single damn thing to be ashamed about. No one - especially not a single parent on a very crappy wage, Sheriff or not - had that sort of money just lying around. Not without something seriously illegal - or in Stiles' case, deadly - going on in their lives.

With everyone none the wiser about the deaths he'd caused, and his father not asking about the sudden influx of money, Stiles figured that he was in the clear. He didn't dare spend the leftover money on frivolous things - that's the way stupid people got caught, and Stiles was many things, but  _stupid_ wasn't one of them - and even borrowed money off Scott for a pack of Reese's, paying him back a few days later.

The deadpool continued to sit on Stiles' desk, the number logged in his phone (though he deleted the message, of course), and he refused to acknowledge it again. He had the money to pay off the bills for Eichen House and his MRI, and that's all he needed. He wouldn't do it again. Even if Stiles had felt more in _control_ of his life than he had in years. (Control was overrated, definitely, but Stiles knew that there was a difference between being in control and having control. So long as he was still in control of himself, nothing else mattered - the rest of the situation could go to hell itself in a goddamn hand basket tied with its own hellish ribbon, and Stiles wouldn't care.)

Then Scott was attacked, then Derek, and then Kira and her mother. The McCall home was almost demolished entirely and no amount of Agent Rafe McCall's fix-it handiwork would be able to repair it. Derek's loft was open plan and easier to fight in, but the floorboards were torn to pieces. Braeden had seemingly decided that the Benefactor's price for Noshiko and Kira's heads was too good to pass up, and after fucking Derek and stealing his phone to get their address from one of Scott's texts (the only text that Derek had actually replied to, it seemed), she went to the Yukimura residence and tried to chop their heads off. Scott and Liam arrived in time to help the two kitsunes fight back and defend themselves, and they fought Braeden back until Derek arrived with the Sheriff to arrest her.

Braeden didn't stay in prison for very long, even with the charge of impersonating a federal officer, and while she didn't go all creeper and melt into the shadows saying "I'll be back", Braeden didn't exactly tell them that she wouldn't try to kill them all again. And it seemed that Peter and Derek's prices had been raised after the Mute Man's failed attempt on Peter's life, so their lives were probably on her own hit list as well. (Stiles figured the dead Mute Man shouldn't feel too bad; three people had tried to kill Peter so far, and while one had succeeded, he came back to life anyway; Peter was one hard motherfucker to actually kill to  _death._ )

Basically, three of their pack were almost killed, they didn't have anywhere safe to go because while Deaton had enough wolfsbane to surround their houses, it was painfully obvious that not all of the Benefactor's assassins were supernatural. That meant the usual way of trying to keep themselves safe: watching out the windows and being on high alert and generally panicking and freaking out for all involved. And as the supernatural beings houses were most likely being watched, that meant everyone ended up at the Stilinski residence. Stiles doubted it would deter anyone who knew the others - his friendship with the pack wasn't exactly a national secret - but still, it made them feel better, and he couldn't say no to the puppy eyes from Scott, Lydia, Malia, Kira, and Parrish. ( _When the hell did Parrish become pack?!_ Stiles wondered.)

Deaton arrived in the early hours of the morning, bleeding profusely and covered in a poultice that made Stiles' eyes water, but since it was that bad, he was the only one that could treat Deaton and find out what had happened. It was in this way that Stiles discovered the Benefactor was pitting his assassins against one another now, and Stiles' name was now definitely on the list. Deaton watched Stiles warily, breathing arduously and the wounds still bleeding. He was severely injured, and according to Stiles' deadpool, was worth $38,000. But Stiles wouldn't do that. Not to the semi-helpful person who was Scott's boss. Of course he wouldn't. Deaton seemed relieved as Stiles left the bathroom, and as that feeling was itching under his skin, Stiles made sure to close the door behind him so he wouldn't be tempted to go back in after all. _He was a good person. Well, he was all right. Not going to win 'son of the year', obviously, but his heart was in the right place, and that counted for something, surely?_

A knock at his bedroom door had Stiles looking over to see Derek and Lydia standing there. Lydia was staring at him again, as if she had finally deciphered the noise coming from him, and she could see what he'd done written plainly over his face. Stiles looked away first. Lydia walked inside, Derek hesitating for a moment before following her. He closed the bedroom door, and Stiles had to remember how to take in a deep breath, his body shaking and a feeling of claustrophobia settling over him. He could see their prices written on them, like that scene in Death Note where the length of everyone's lives were written above their heads, and Stiles made himself look down.

"You're going to kill us, aren't you?" Lydia whispered. "You know exactly how to do it, how to hurt us, and you'd not only do it, but you'd enjoy it."

"No, I wouldn't!" Stiles replied, but he didn't have to be a werewolf to know that he was lying.

He remembered the nogitsune all too well, the way he had plunged that sword straight into Scott's chest, the power that he'd pulled from his best friend, the chaos that he'd thrived on, and the control he loved and now craved.

Derek let out a threatening growl and moved forward at Stiles' lie, claws out. Stiles didn't flinch or back away, as he might have done once. Lydia was right - he knew exactly what to do to take down every single member of the pack, he'd been researching supernatural creatures nearly every week since Scott was bitten, and while Derek might doubt his Googling skills, Stiles knew everyone's weaknesses. Even without the bestiary, Stiles knew how to bring each of them down emotionally as well as physically, and Stiles knew that he would never stop thinking about how to kill them.

The money was a pull, especially since he knew that the prices had gone up on all of their heads and there was now a price on his own, but Stiles wasn't greedy and it was more than that. He wanted to be thought of as _more_ than he was, as what he could be - even if that wasn't a good thing or person - and he wanted to be remembered. He wanted his life to leave a mark on the other's life, so that if he died - like Lydia had considered the year prior - they would be inconsolable without him. Of course, trying to kill them all would probably make that a bit harder to attempt.

Derek stopped short of harming Stiles, all three of them knowing that he would never be able to hurt him, not really, and then his gaze went to the window instead. They had company. And Stiles' reputation as friend to the supernatural preceded him, because nearly every assassin on the Benefactor's list had arrived to claim their prizes - their heads.

Stiles grabbed his baseball bat to fight, to put his compulsion and twisted nature into protecting and defending instead of killing his own friends. Derek and Lydia followed him without hesitation, a scream already trembling on Lydia's lips. By the time they made it downstairs, the fight had already begun. Kira and Noshiko were fighting off Violet and Garrett, Peter fighting off a woman that had scratches down her arm, Scott was with Liam fighting off a couple that seemed heavily invested in their firearms.

As Derek went to help Scott, Lydia stepped her way through the fight with hardly a care, going to where Parrish was standing in front of John, snarling in a way that was definitely not human. Stiles snuck up behind one of the lingering assassins, swinging his baseball bat and watching as it connected bluntly. The man went down with a thud, and from there things got hazy. A scream there, a heavy thud there, glowing eyes and claws there, a snarl and a growl, a gunshot and a sword slicing the air.

Stiles wasn't sure who was an enemy and who wasn't anymore, sweat dripping and his hair falling into his eyes, and he just kept swinging his bat, hoping that it connected with a foe rather than a friend. His mind cleared and he blinked abruptly when his father rested a hand on his shoulder, and Stiles lowered the bat slowly. By the fading bruises on some of his friends, it seemed as though he hadn't always hit his target. And as Stiles became aware again, he realised that there was a pain in his chest that had nothing to do with his laboured breathing. One of the assassin's bullets had hit him, and by the amount of blood that was seeping out onto his shirt, Stiles figured it had punctured something pretty damn important. (Out of everything in the human body, why didn't he get shot in something useless like his appendix?)

Derek caught Stiles before he fell to the floor, lowering him down slowly, and while Melissa tried to get the others to hold him down, to get towels and water, Stiles knew it was useless. He was dying. Scott was beside him, eyes red and filled with tears, offering to bite him, but Stiles just shook his head. He couldn't let himself become a werewolf, not after what he'd done to 25, 55, and 60. He didn't deserve to live while they died, with their blood on his hands, but Stiles couldn't tell Scott that. Lydia was on his other side, Derek was still holding him up, and Stiles wondered what they'd say if he told them that he loved them both. He just looked at them, making sure not to let the words fall from his mouth in a moment of weakness.

Instead, Stiles grabbed his phone from his pocket, momentarily glad that it hadn't been broken in the fight, and took a photo of himself. ( _Is this really the time for a selfie, Stiles?_ ) Ignoring the question, Stiles attached the photo to a text and sent it to the Benefactor. They would find out the truth of what he'd done eventually - probably soon after he died, in fact - and they would all hate him then, even Scott the optimist. Stiles figured that if he couldn't let himself be saved for them, then he could die for their sakes instead. His father was already sobbing, Melissa still futilely trying to save him, Scott was crying, Derek was looking at him with tears in his eyes, and Lydia was screaming, and in the noise of grief, a text message was received in return.

 _The money has been transferred to your account_.

Stiles Stilinski - 195.

...

The end.

Thanks for reading.


End file.
